fi)i* Li>tf*w mine. First, last Wednesday noon, I was in my order office alone—the man who's usually there had gone out to his dinner. In came that girl of Lee's —Debbie, as they call her. I hadn't seen much of her since she came home from London, but I knew her well enough, because for a while, before she went to that milliner's place in town, she was parlour- maid at my house; of course, she's smartened up a lot since then, though she was always a forward young minx. "Well, she came up to the counter as large as life. 'Mr. Archington,' she says, 'I want to buy some claret. I've not been well, and the doctor says I'm anaemic, and I ought to drink some good claret, so I want to try if it'll do any good.' Well, of course, I showed her a wine list, and pointed out a very good claret at three shillings a bottle. I also recommended some Burgundy that I have at the same price. "But, no. Neither was good enough for my lady! 'While I'm at it,' she says, 'I'll have the best.' And before I could say more she put her finger on the price list against one of the best wines I have—some very fine Chateau Laffitte" Brixey started and whistled, and the other two men glanced at each other significantly. "At six-and-six a bottle," continued Archington. '"I'll have half-a-dozen of that,' she said. 'You'll 200 THE LOST MR. LINTHWAITE send them up for me, Mr. Archington?' and she pulled out a purse and handed me a five-pound note. "Well, of course, it wasn't my affair if Debbie iLee liked to buy claret at six-and-six a bottle, and I gave her the change, and promised to send the wine up at once. But I never believe it was for her, for I never saw a young woman look less anaemic in my life. And, to cut matters short, I put that fiver safely away." Archington glanced at Willett as he came to an end of his story, and the bookseller nudged Brixey's elbow. "I've got a five-pound note from the same quarter, too," he said. "And I got it about the same time—last Wednesday. This same young woman came into my shop just before one o'clock. I did just know her, for it's not so long since that I bought some old prints from her father. "She'd a scrap of paper in her hand. 'Mr. Willett,' she says, as candidly as you please, 'there's a lady that I know in London who's interested in these old places like Selchester, an invalid lady that's nothing to do but read, and she's asked me if I can buy her any of the books on this list? Have you any of them?' 'What are they?' I asked. "She gave me the scrap of paper then. It was part of a page evidently torn out of some secondhand bookseller's catalogue—some bookseller who special- ises in topography and local history. There were several items relating to Selchester, and some of them were ticked off in pencil. "'Yes,' I said, 'I've some of these, but as you see, they're pretty expensive.' 'Oh, it doesn't THE BANK-NOTES 201 matter,' she says. 'She's a wealthy lady—one of the customers where I worked in London—and she's sent me a five-pound note to lay out.' So I showed her what I had—Blenkinridge's 'History of Selchester' in two volumes, and Dean Dewberry's 'Annals and Collections of Selchester Cathedral,' and Raycastle's 'Chartulary of Selchester Priory,' and one or two small things—they came to well over four pounds. "She gave me a five-pound note. I have it in my pocket-book now. I offered to pack the books for her and to send them by parcel post, but she carried-them off. "Now," concluded Willett, "I believed the young woman's story at the time, but when I heard of Mr. Linthwaite's disappearance, and that he was a well- known antiquary, and that he'd been seen about the Priory grounds last Tuesday morning, I—well, I began to think. And on Sunday, Mr. Archington and I compared notes, and there you are!" "What does Mr. Brixey think?" asked Arching- ton, slyly. Brixey, who seemed to have relapsed into a brown study, suddenly woke up. "Let me see those five-pound notes," he de- manded. '' That's the first thing!'' CHAPTER XXV THE BANK CONFIRMS The bookseller produced an old-fashioned pocket- book, and, after a little searching among its con- tents, extracted a five-pound note, new, crisp, and crackling. Archington at the same moment unlocked a drawer and took another from beneath some papers. In silence they handed the notes to Brixey, who glanced straight at the numbers. "X 61 23784," he muttered. "X 61 23785. A moment—I'll write those numbers down. Thank you, gentlemen," he continued, as he produced a notebook and pencil. "That's the first direct clue I've had! You've hit the target without a doubt! I'm about as sure as I can be that this is not the first time I've handled these two notes." "You, yourself?" asked Archington. "I, myself!" affirmed Brixey. "My uncle and I bank at the same bank—the Amalgamated Counties, in Fleet Street. A week since last Saturday I cashed a cheque for him there. I took a hundred pounds of it in five-pound notes, all of which he'd have on him when he left town. If these are not two of them, I shall be much surprised. But I'll know definitely before the day's out." "And if they are?" asked Willett. 202 THE BANK CONFIRMS 203 "I want to have your advice on that matter," said Brixey. "Now, you said, Mr. Archington, that your impression is that my uncle is locked up in the old Priory. Do you think that possible? Possible, I mean, that a man could be locked up there for several days without it leaking out? Do you mean to say that it's a place in which it's possible to imprison anybody in that way?" Archington pointed to the bookseller. "Willett knows more about that than I do," he answered. "I'm not as familiar with our old places as he is.'' "Well, it is possible," said Willett as Brixey turned to him. "Unless you've been all over those ruins, Mr. Brixey, you'd be astonished in what a good state of preservation they are, and what a lot of room there is in them. Two or three resolute and determined people, bent on doing it, could keep a man prisoner there for as long as they liked. "There's the old tower, for instance. The base of that is Lee's dwelling-house, put in repair some years ago, when the museum was started, for the caretaker to live in. Above it there are several rooms and places, all in good architectural repair, with strong doors, and so on. "In one of them a lot of corporation records and things are stored, but it's very rarely that that room is visited. And there are rooms above that. Yes, I certainly think a man might be locked up there, and nobody the wiser." "But, think!" objected Brixey. "Those Priory grounds are visited all day long! Do you mean to say that a man so imprisoned couldn't attract atten- 204. THE LOST MR. LINTHWAITE tion from the windows, couldn't shout to those below?" "There are rooms in that tower, sir," answered Willett, "in which the windows are so small and set so high in the walls above the flooring that a man couldn't get at them." "What about lights at night in these rooms, or in one of them?" suggested Brixey. "Wouldn't that attract attention?" "Do you think the gaolers would allow lights?" asked Willett, drily. "No! Besides, there are one or two places in there that don't touch the outer walls—inner rooms. That's one of the most massive towers in England." Brixey relapsed into thoughtful silence, and his two companions regarded him attentively as if speculating on the trend of his reflections. "I shouldn't wonder if you're right!" he ex- claimed suddenly. "I've no doubt it's right," said Archington. "That's where he'll be found. But I can't under- stand what it all means? Who's at the bottom of it? "You put Mesham's name on that placard on Saturday morning—the one that was carried about the streets for an hour or two. Do you think he's a finger in the pie?" "Can't say," replied Brixey. "I'm inclined to think both his hands are in the pie, for that matter. But I don't know. I know nothing certain, but this," he added, pointing to the numbers of the bank- notes. 206 THE LOST MR. LINTHWAITE bread and water. That's something to know. And now I'm going to wire to the bank." Archington pointed to a sheaf of telegram forms on his desk, and Brixey wrote out his message. "Manager, Amalgamated Counties Bank, Fleet Street, London.—I cashed a cheque for Mr. John Linthwaite with you on May 12. Please wire me the numbers of the five- pound notes which you gave me in exchange.—Richaed Brixey, Mitre Hotel, Selchester." "You shall know what I hear about this," he said, as he went off. "In the meantime, silence all round!'' He handed in the wire at the post office and then walked back to the Mitre, expecting to encounter Gaffkin either in the streets or about the hotel. But Gaffkin was not in evidence; Brackett, the barmaid said, had gone out on business, and Brixey was left to his thoughts. The more he thought, the more he was puzzled. Used as he was to the sensationalisms which were always cropping up in connection with his profession, he had never yet heard of a highly respectable gentle- man being locked up in the middle of a small town, every inhabitant of which was alert to get news of him, and remaining incarcerated for days together. Granted that Nat Lee and his demure daughter Debbie were acting as gaolers, it was preposterous to doubt that there was somebody behind them, somebody who, as Archington had suggested, was determined to keep Mr. Linthwaite safe until something had happened which his presence would have prevented. But what could that be! 208 THE LOST MR. LINTHWAITE 9.41 this morning?" asked Brixey. "You did. Well, was he alone ?'' "As far as I know, he was, sir," replied the man. "I saw him in a first-class smoker, sir—hadn't no one with him that I noticed." Brixey nodded in silence, and turned into the Mitre. He was disappointed at not heing able to communicate his news to Gaffkin, but a little reflec- tion made him determined not to tell even Brackett of it. He had already made up his mind that he would not share it with Crabbe and the police—yet. Gaffkin would probably return from Brighton before night; if not, he would visit the Priory alone. And while he lunched he thought out a plan of action. Know whether his uncle was immured or not in those ruins he would, before he slept. Three o'clock brought Brixey a wire from the bank in London. After one glance at it he walked over to Chantry Passage and showed it to Willett. "There you are!" he said. "Just as I expected. You see, the twenty five-pound notes I got in ex- change for Mr. Linthwaite's cheque were numbered X 61 23768 to X 61 23787, both numbers inclusive. Your note and Mr. Archington's are X 61 23784 and X 61 23785. Nothing could be clearer!" "What are you going to do?" asked Willett. "Without saying anything to anybody," an- swered Brixey, "I'm going to pay a quiet visit to that spot this evening, after dark. Look here. Are you a yearly subscriber to those grounds? You are f Then it would be a help if you'd lend me your key, I want to get in on the quiet." THE BANK CONFIRMS 209 "You don't think you're running into danger?" asked Willett. "Possibly, but it will only be for about the twen- tieth time," repeated Brixey. "That's merely inci- dental. I'll keep you posted." He lounged away the afternoon around and within the cathedral. And as he sat down to dinner that evening, still alone, a second wire arrived from Gaffkin. Mesham was in company with an elderly man, much resembling himself, at Brighton, and Gaffkin was carefully watching all their movements. CHAPTER XXVI THE GREEN PURSE Brixey, before sitting down to dinner that evening, had been out in the town, doing a little necessary shopping. Had Crabbe followed him from shop to shop his police-inspector's mind might have attached suspicion to Brixey's purchases. For at one shop Brixey bought an electric lamp of the best make obtainable, and at another a pair of cloth shoes, thickly soled with felt; at the third he purchased a small but eminently business-like revolver and had it fitted with cartridges. When he went out of the Mitre after darkness had fallen over Selchester he had all these things in his pockets ready for use. In the course of his professional career Brixey had more than once played the part of a spy. More than once, too, he had run himself into queer sit- uations. It was no empty boast on his part when he told Willett that if he risked danger on this occasion it would only be for the twentieth time. But he was a cool hand, and full of resourceful- ness and of ideas, and he had already worked out the plans which he intended to follow that evening. He knew from observation that after dark the grounds of the old Priory were closed; accordingly 210 THE GREEN PURSE 211 there would be no one about to witness his move- ments. His notion was to get in there, unobserved, and to do a little quiet spying round the caretaker's dwelling. There might be windows with undrawn curtains; there might be something to hear at doors; some accidental circumstance might ensue which would be of immense value. And if none of these things materialised he meant to walk boldly in on the father and daughter and tax Debbie Lee with having been in possession of two five-pound notes belonging to Mr. John Linthwaite. Everything was very quiet at the far extremities of the little town. Such Selchester folk as went abroad at night always congregated in the centre of the place, around the old Market Cross; up there, near the North Bar and its adjacent walls, there was nobody about. In the windows of the Lame Hussar there were cheery lights; shadows of men crossed the blinds; once or twice, as Brixey hung about, watching and waiting until the darkness increased, men came out of Mrs. Crosse's door and went away into the side streets or through the old Bar towards the outskirts. Over the walls of the Priory grounds he could see the dark line of the elms and beeches, black masses against a starlit sky; everywhere on that side of him hung heavy silence. While he waited at a corner opposite the Lame Hussar, two sounds broke that silence. Behind him, down a narrow side street which his wanderings in the town had taught him to know as leading beneath the walls to the western extremity of Sel- THE GREEN PURSE 217 carefully shone his lamp, lay an oblong green morocco purse, a thing of some size, half hidden beneath a handkerchief which had either been carelessly thrown or purposely placed on it. Brixey set down his lamp at the corner of the dressing-table and opened that purse. And he instantly knew that its owner had gone off in such a hurry that she had forgotten it. For there, in one division, were bank-notes; in another, gold. In a third was a mere scrap of paper, and it was to that, rather than to the gold and the notes, that Brixey gave his attention. CHAPTER XXVII THE CRT ACROSS THE WATER It was a bit of crumpled, dirty paper, a scrap evidently torn from a small memorandum-book, at which Brixey looked. On it were a few words scrib- bled in pencil in a man's handwriting—an address. Whether it signified much or tittle, Brixey instantly memorized it. Wolmark's Private Hotel, Trinity Square, E. C. He repeated it once or twice and packed it away in a safe corner of his brain for future use if need arose. Wolmark's Private Hotel, Trinity Square—down by the Tower, and near the Docks. What was an address like that doing in Debbie Lee's purse, there in Selchester? But before Brixey had time to consider this prob- lem his attention was otherwise occupied. Outside the room in which he stood there was a landing, and on that landing, a window was open. All the time he had been there he had heard the hooting of the owls in the old trees across the grounds. Now he heard something else—the steady throb of the engine of a motor-car. That sound drew nearer and nearer; slowed down, ceased. He knew it to have come from the road outside; knew the car to have pulled up close to the gates of the Priory, and he instantly slipped the bit of paper back into the purse, 218 THE CRY ACROSS THE WATER 219 laid the purse where he had found it, half covered by the handkerchief, and turned off the light of his lamp. The next instant he heard footsteps on the drive below—somebody was running towards the house. And he knew then that Debbie Lee had missed her purse,, and was either hurrying back herself or had sent somebody to fetch it. Brixey, in glancing round the room, had noticed a curtain which hung from a shelf in an alcove. To slip behind that curtain was the work of an instant. Another instant and he heard the hurrying steps in the yard beneath, then in the living-room below, then on the stair. And he knew then that it was a man who had come back for the green purse. The man came running fast up the stairs. Brixey heard him panting. He turned straight into the room. Brixey saw his figure outlined against the grey light of the curtainless window. But the next instant the man struck a match; it flared up brightly. And then the watcher knew that he had indeed made a discovery. The man standing before him, glancing eagerly at the contents of the dressing-table, was, without doubt, the man whom the Newhaven landlord had described—a very ordinary-looking fellow to whom an unmistakable cast or squint gave a sinister appearance. Also, Brixey was certain that he was the man to whom he had seen Mesham talking that very morning in the side-alley when he followed Mesham from the station after the Byfields had gone off: to London. He knew him by his coat; its cut, its loud pattern. In the same instant in which Brixey made these discoveries the man caught sight of the purse and THE CRY ACROSS THE WATER 221 diately important one, and Brixey determined to con- tinue his search. And now, feeling sure that nohody else would come to the old tower, he turned on the light of his lamp and boldly and carefully explored his surroundings. Before he left it, he was going to make certain whether Mr. Linthwaite was in that tower or not. The caretaker's dwelling, Brixey discovered, was of two storeys; above that the tower grew less and less of a human habitation. The ancient stairway, in good repair as high as the third storey, became dilapidated; the walls, wainscoted to a certain height, became bare and festooned with cobwebs; the win- dows of the lower storeys became replaced by narrow embrasures from which the wooden lattices were dropping out. Here and there were doors opening from the stairs; they were either half open or unlocked. The rooms within were either certainly empty or filled with odds and ends which seemed to have been ac- cumulating for many generations. One, however, was locked; its door bore a small brass plate on which was an inscription—City Council of Selchester. That, decided Brixey, must be the room of which Willett had spoken, wherein some of the local archives were stored. But there were yet upper regions to explore, and Brixey climbed what was evidently the last flight of stair. And before he knew of it he had set foot in what he very quickly assured himself to have been his uncle's prison. The stair terminated on a narrow landing whereon was an ancient archway in which a door, clamped 222 THE LOST MR. LINTHWAITE and ironed, was deeply set. That door was open. The vaulted chamber behind it was empty. But there was a door in the further wall of that chamber, also open, through which Brixey instantly strode. And he had not thrown the gleam of his lamp round the small room inside it for more than a few observant seconds than he knew that one part of the mystery was solved. Here, without a doubt, Mr. Linthwaite had been immured. But he was not there! The place was empty and silent. Yet that he had been locked up there Brixey never doubted after his first rapid inspection—nay, he was certain that he had been there recently. And now that he had settled that point he proceeded to take a careful look round this curious gaol. An oil lamp stood on a table set against one of the bare walls. He lighted it and turned it up to the full. In its fairly strong light he saw how it was that Mr. Linthwaite had been incarcerated in this place without any one knowing outside the circle— large or small—of his gaolers. The room was some twelve feet square in floor space, but of a considerable height. Its two windows were set high in the walls, much too high for a tall man to reach, even if standing on chair or table. The door was strong, thick, and closely set in its framework. Brixey saw that when it was closed the room must be sound proof. These facts showed him that a prisoner confined in the room would have little chance of attracting the attention of any person outside. He turned from them to the proofs of his uncle's presence. The place had been fitted up as a bed-sitting-room, THE CRY ACROSS THE WATER 223 and was not uncomfortably furnished. A thick, if somewhat timeworn carpet had been spread on the floor, a camp-bed placed in one corner, a roomy arm- chair stood by a table set in the centre. On another and smaller table lay books, newspapers, periodicals. Brixey turned them over—the last newspapers were of that day's date; the books were those which Debbie Lee had bought from Willett. Writing materials lay near. A quantity of manuscript revealed the fact that Mr. Linthwaite had solaced the hours of im- prisonment by making copious notes from the "His- tory of Selchester." There was no mistaking his somewhat crabbed penmanship. And ranged on the same table, in company with a cruet-stand and certain table appointments,, stood the half-dozen bottles of Chateau Laffitte which Arch- ington had spoken of; three of them were still un- corked. A sudden fear sprang up in Brixey's mind as he took in all these various details and proofs. Was it possible that the evidently sudden and hurried de- parture of the Lees and the squint-eyed man had brought about some tragedy? The Airedale terrior was lying dead in the yard. Was it possible that Mr. Linthwaite was lying dead, too, somewhere among these ruins? It might be that these folks had been faced with some situation which made them desperate—desperate enough to take life. And at that thought and its dreadful possibilities Brixey hastily ran down the stairs, left the Priory grounds, and hurried along the streets to the police station. Now, at last, the police would be of use. Crabbe was in his office, writing letters, when 224 THE LOST MR. LINTHWAITE Brixey was shown in to Mm. He looked up in aston- ishment. "News?" he asked. "Look here!" exclaimed Brixey. "We've got to stir—quick! Never mind all the particulars. I'll tell you them later. But I've made a discovery. "My uncle's been locked in a room in the top of that tower at the old Priory. There's no doubt about it, as you'll see for yourself. But he's not there now, and those Lees are gone—both father and daughter. They've gone off tonight, in a motor-car. I saw them go. "Now, something's been done with my uncle before they left. We've got to find out what. Get some of your men and come up there. I'll tell you a lot more as we go along." Crabbe got to his feet and made for the door. But before he could open it the policeman who had just ushered Brixey in came back with an expression of face which betokened news. "Well?" demanded Crabbe. "What now?" The policeman, obviously excited, jerked a thick thumb on the direction of the front office. "There's a man there from one of those cottages up North Bar way, sir," he said. "Outside the walls— between the Priory grounds and the lake. He says there's somebody on that island in the middle of the lake shouting for help!" Brixey started forward. In his observations of the big sheet of water behind the Priory grounds he had noticed the small, thickly-wooded island of which the policeman spoke, and now a sudden light flashed THE CRY ACROSS THE WATER 225 across his field of mental vision. He clapped the in- spector on the shoulder. "Come on at once!" he exclaimed. "I've an idea what that means. Come! Bring some men. Get this man outside to show us the nearest way.'' Ten minutes later, at the head of half-a-dozen men, Brixey was standing on the edge of the black surface of the lake, striving to peer into the gloom. Not even his sharp eyes could make out the island, half-a-mile away, but it needed little acuteness of hearing to catch a cry which came through the night. "Help there! Help!" CHAPTER XXVn MAROONED Brixey gripped the inspector by the arm as he heard that cry. '' There you are!" he said. '' Found! That's Mr. Linthwaite's voice. Now, then—how to get to him? What is this island? Do people go across to it?" "There's a hut on it that's used for wild-fowl shoot- ing," answered Crabbe. "And there ought to be a punt somewhere about here. This is a queer business, Mr. Brixey," he went on as they began to search the bank of the lake. "How on earth does this poor gentleman come to be there?" "Never mind that," exclaimed Brixey. "He'll tell us all that later. Coming!" he shouted as the cry for help came again. "Wave one of those lanterns to let him know he's heard," he continued, turning to the knot of police, who were turning the lights of their bull's-eye lamps on the reeds and sedges in an endeav- our to find the punt. "Where is this boat you're talking about ?'' One of the policemen, a little in advance, suddenly stopped and turned his light on the still water at the edge of the lake. "There it is, sir!" he said. "And scuttled, too! That's no use." The other men gathered round, turning their lamps 226 MAROONED 229 either side of him, was something of a picture as he came into- the glare of the policemen's lamps. A somewhat prim, precise, and old-fashioned-looking gentleman, his outward appearance was now rendered odd and even amusing by the fact that he wore an ordinary blanket pinned about his shoulders and had a cheap cloth cap, two sizes too small for him, perched on the crown of his head. He wore pince-nez on the bridge of his high, in- quisitive nose; the black ribbon attached to them dangling gracefully across his blanket. He stared wonderingly around the ring of faces on the bank, and as Brixey stepped forward to give him a helping hand his wonder found vent in an exclamation. "Bless my soul!" he said, as his nephew pulled him through the reeds and set him on the bank. "You here? Dear me! Most extraordinary. I fear your arrangements have been upset, eh? This is not—not accidental?" Brixey slapped the blanketed shoulders. "I've been here looking for you ever since last Thursday,'' he answered. '' The whole place has been turned upside down for you. You're going to cost me five hundred pounds! Where have you been ?'' Mr. Linthwaite removed his pince-nez, and waved them in the direction whence he had just been ferried. "Since a little while after dark this evening," he remarked calmly, "marooned—I think that is the cor- rect term ?—marooned on a small island, across there. "I wish I'd had one of these lamps with me. I found some ancient stones on that island on which, I am sure, are inscriptions. But I only had one box of matches—growing low, too. 230 THE LOST MR. LINTHWAITE "So you are really here?" he continued, glancing almost dubiously at his nephew. "Didn't you re- ceive my wire last week? I expected to join you at -Winchester." "Look here!" broke in Brixey. "Who put you on that island tonight? Never mind me—we'll talk about that later. Come now—who was it?" Mr. Linthwaite resumed his glasses and looked spec- ulatively round the ring of interested faces. "Um!" he said. "An inspector of police, I per- ceive; also several constables. Ah! I think we will defer explanations until Shall we adjourn to the Mitre? Perhaps the inspector will accompany us? The fact is, a little refreshment will not do me any harm." Brixey slipped a sovereign into the hand of the boatman, another into that of the man who had first heard Mr. Linthwaite's cry for help. The proces- sion set forth, Brixey and Crabbe going first with the recent captive behind them; the constables following, highly diverted by their view of Mr. Linthwaite from the rear. At the police station they fell out. The three ia front marched on in silence until they came to the Mitre. Not until they were in the private sitting- room did Mr. Linthwaite remove his blanket and his cap. That done, he glanced significantly at his nephew. "On this occasion, Dick," he said solemnly, "I think—whisky!'' Instead of ringing the bell, Brixey went round to the bar parlour in person. Brackett sat by the hearth reading the evening paper, in which he was so ab- MAROONED 231 sorbed that he did not hear Brixey's footstep until his guest clapped him on the shoulder. "Got him!" said Brixey, triumphantly. "He's in the little parlour. Come in, and bring a decanter of your best whisky with you.'' Brackett got up with marvellous alacrity for a man of his age. He stared at Brixey open-eyed. "You don't mean to say Mr. Linthwaite's found!" he exclaimed. "Bless me! There's a most amazing theory about his disappearance in that paper!" "I'll consider it later," laughed Brixey. "He's here, and he's all right, though a bit shivery." Brackett gazed wonderingly on his elder guest as he carried decanter and glasses into the parlour, and his hand trembled as he put it in Mr. Linthwaite's outstretched palm. "I was never so glad to see anything in my life, gentlemen!" he said fervently as he glanced from uncle to nephew. "Never! I—I hope you're no worse, sir?" '' Except for a slight and merely temporary feeling of chilliness, my good sir, I am, I believe, no worse," answered the returned captive. "I have eaten, and drunk, and smoked, and read—very profitably —and written—also profitably—and I am quite well. "A little more exercise, perhaps? The fact is, until tonight, I have had none—not even that allowed to prisoners of the usual brand," he added, with a sly glance at Crabbe. "I wasn't even allowed out of my cell!" "Then you have been locked up, sir?" suggested Brackett. "Dear me!" MAROONED 233 "Mesham?" he answered. "Mesham T Ah, you mean—yes, I know the man you mean. But no, I have never seen him since I left him outside the Priory at noon last Tuesday morning—never!" CHAPTER XXIX WITHOUT EXPLANATION Brixey was obviously so taken aback by this reply that his uncle, after looking him carefully over for a few seconds, turned to the landlord and the inspec- tor with a significant glance. "I think my nephew would like to have some ex- planation from me, or to give me some explanation of his own in private," he said. "I've no doubt you gentlemen, and all the town, will eventually get your fill of this before long! But just now" Brackett took the plain hint and moved to the door. But Inspector Crabbe looked like a man whose hopes are being dashed just as they are about to be realized. "Those Lees, sir?" he asked. "You don't make any charges against them?" "For the present, my friend," answered Lin- thwaite, "I make no charge against anybody. I'm too much in the dark." "You said those Lees had slipped off in a motor- car, Mr. Brixey," said Crabbe. "Seemed to be run- ning away, you thought?" "Yes, but I don't know that they were carrying off anybody's property, Inspector," replied Brixey. "I, too, have no charge to make. Better wait. Morning may bring revelations!" 234 WITHOUT EXPLANATION 235 He spoke chaffingly, but when Crabbe and the land- lord had left the room he turned to his uncle with a face that was serious enough. "What on earth is all this about?" he asked. "You don't know what strange things I've un- earthed since Thursday! I've an awful lot to tell you. There's some extraordinary mystery at the bottom of all this, and I'm certain it's just about to be developed in a very serious way for somebody. '' Hadn't you better tell me your story of this past week! Then I 'l1 tell you what I've been up to. And then" Linthwaite interrupted his nephew with a deep cough and a sly look. "Yes, dear boy," he said, "and then what?" '' Then, I should say, it will probably be high time to call in the police," replied Brixey. "It might be," remarked Linthwaite, "if I knew, or we knew, what to call them in about. But it seems to me that somebody else will have to do the call- ing, and I don't know who that somebody else really is. I don't know what's going on! "You want to know what's happened to me. I can tell you in a very few words. Last Tuesday morning, when I went out of this hotel, bent on no more than a mere stroll to a neighbouring ruin, I met a woman whom I knew years ago as a Mrs. Cradock Melsome. "I know—know, mind!—her husband to be living. I know where he is, or was a week ago. But I found out that she had married, twenty-two years since, a well-to-do man in this town, and was now his widow —supposed widow, that is, for she has, of course, no 236 THE LOST MR. LINTHWAITE legal status, unfortunately for her. She is now called Mrs. Byfield. '' I spoke to her for a few minutes, but without tell- ing her that I knew her real husband to be alive. I might have done so, but our conversation was inter- rupted by her brother-in-law, Charles Melsome, whom I know well enough, though I haven't seen him for two years. "I walked away with him, leaving her. I asked him a question or two about matters. 'Does Mrs. Byfield know that Cradock is alive?' was one. 'Has she any family?' was another. "He told me that she had one son, that she didn't know that Cradock was alive, and that she had mar- ried Byfield in good faith. I then asked him a most pertinent question—'How did Byfield leave his money?' He replied that Byfield had died intestate, and that she, his supposed widow, had administered the estate. "'In that case,' I said, 'the unfortunate woman is going to encounter serious trouble, for your brother is here in England, seeking her for reasons of his own, and he is sure to find her. The truth will come out, and she and her son won't be entitled to a penny of Byfield's.' "He then asked me what should be done. I said I would consider matters during my walk, and speak to him again in the afternoon. We had an appoint- ment for half-past two at the Priory, and parted. And now," added Linthwaite, "I may tell you that for thirty years I have been trustee for these two Melsomes, and" "A moment!" interrupted Brixey. "I'd better WITHOUT EXPLANATION 237 tell you that I know all about it, though you think I don't. The fact is, I was so convinced that you'd been the victim of foul play that I sent Gaffkin to search your papers—and, to cut the story short, I've got the Melsome receipts and the pedigree safely locked up here. Sorry to have had to make such a search—but, you know, everybody here believed you'd been murdered!" "Oh, well, then, of course, you now know who these Melsomes are,," said Linthwaite, somewhat sur- prised by his nephew's drastic methods. "Urn—I hope Gaffkin was careful in looking through my papers ?'' "You can be sure he was," replied Brixey. "Yes, I worked out all about the Melsomes, and I also came to the conclusion that Mrs. Martin Byfield is really Mrs. Cradock Melsome. "And as it's well known in the town that Martin Byfield died intestate, Gaffkin and I, of course, rea- lized that, as you said just now, Mrs. Byfield and her son aren't entitled to a penny, by the mere fact that her marriage to Martin Byfield was no marriage. So now you see that you and I are at a common point. I know what you know, so far." "Aye, but you don't know this!" said Lin- thwaite. "Cradock Melsome is in London, wanting to find his wife. He had a reason. Needless to say, it's for his own benefit. But, on thinking the whole thing very thoroughly over, when I got to Mardene village after leaving Charles Melsome, I wired to Cradock bidding him meet me here at the Mitre next day. "The fact was, I saw a way out of the difficulty 240 THE LOST MR. LINTHWAITE comfortable as possible for you.' Then be slightly opened the door and beckoned in a demure young woman. "'This young lady,' he said, 'will take any orders you like to give her, and do anything in reason for you. But,' he added, with a sinister look, 'whenever she comes up, Mr. Linthwaite, there'll always be a man in close attendance. '' 'Look here!' and he opened the door a few inches again and showed me a black-visaged, determined- looking fellow outside. 'Make the most of the situa- tion, Mr. Linthwaite,' he continued. 'Only a week and you'll be free again.' "'Whose work is this, and what does it mean?' I demanded. 'That, sir,' he answered, 'is neither here nor there—so far as I'm concerned. Take my advice—and be as comfortable as you can!' After which, without as much as an if-you-please, he calmly took my hat and umbrella and walked off with them— three guineas worth of property, which I've never seen since." "Who the devil is this squint-eyed fellow?" growled Brixey. "No more idea than the man in the moon!" said Linthwaite. "But he must be easily identified. However, there I was, and I had to make the best of it. So I cultivated the demure damsel. She was friendly and agreeable enough, so long as I said nothing about freedom—in fact„ I am bound to say she made a vety pleasant gaoler. '' She bought me some good wine—by the by, I have left three bottles of it there—and got me some books, and was very kind. And, knowing that I should be THE MIDNIGHT DISCOVERY 245 several times that a window was opened just above the door and a grey head was put out. "It's I—Brixey—Mr. Semmerby," said the young disturber. "And here's my uncle with me!" ''God bless me!" exclaimed the old lawyer. ''Glad to hear you're found, Mr. Linthwaite! You want me? I'll be down in two minutes." He presently appeared at the door in his dressing- gown,, carrying a lamp, which he lifted towards Lin- thwaite's face. "Safe and sound, I see, at any rate!" he said cordially. "Come in! And where," he went on, when he had led them into the room in which Brixey had found him and Fanshawe Byfield the night before, "where did you find your uncle, young man? "He's been pretty active in looking for you, and pretty original in some of his methods," he added, turning to Linthwaite. "I thought he'd come off all right in the end." Linthwaite laid his hand on his fellow-practi- tioner's arm. "My friend!" he said. "Never mind where I sprang from just now! There's mischief afoot— black, bad mischief! Now, first, do you know why Mrs. Byfield and her son have gone to London?" Semmerby showed his* astonishment. "Haven't the ghost of a notion!" he answered. "I knew nothing about their going until your nephew told me of it this morning." "Very well," said Linthwaite. "Another ques- tion. You know Selchester, I suppose, as well as any- body in it. Do you know a man, apparently about thirty to thirty-five years of age, dark, medium-sized, THE MIDNIGHT DISCOVERY 247 in a position to administer that estate I Do you know that to be so!'' "I know it to be so," affirmed Linthwaite. "The woman you know as Mrs. Martin Byfield is Mrs. Cradock Melsome—more's the pity she is! But she is!" "What does this precious husband of hera want with her ?'' asked Semmerby. "The fact of the matter is," replied Linthwaite, "a certain relation of our family has left money to her. I'm trustee for it. I haven't been able to trace her, and I was fool enough, having failed to do so, to acquaint Cradock with the fact, thinking that he might have heard of her because, failing her, it goes to him. The result was that he crossed to England recently. Wherever there's money to be got, these two will be after it." "You think he's the man who was seen in company with Mesham here last week?" asked Semmerby. "Without a doubt," agreed Linthwaite. "And he's no doubt entered into this conspiracy with his brother. Semmerby, this has got to be seen to at once!'' The old lawyer shook his head. '' A pretty coil!" he said. ''I—I don't know which way to look at it. And my clerk, too—evidently in it! A man I trusted most implicitly. Why, he's practically managed my practice for some years. I've entrusted him with" He suddenly broke off his remarks, as if a new idea had occurred to him, and Brixey noticed that when he rose he was trembling a little. "I—I think," he said, glancing from one to the 248 THE LOST MR. LINTHWAITE other, "I think that, late as it is, I shall have to go to my office. I shall never sleep if I don't. Per- haps you'll come with me. I'll get ready." The Selchester clocks were striking midnight as the three men entered Semmerby's office and went up- stairs to his private room. The old lawyer showed an almost painful nervousness as he turned on the light and went to a shelf on which were a number of boxes, each inscribed with the name of some client. He pointed to one marked "Byfield," and Brixey lifted it down and set it on the desk. "There are securities in here," whispered Sem- merby as he produced a key. "And the worst of it is, considering what we know now, they are easily negotiable securities. This is not a difficult lock, and if that man Letwige is really dishonest" He paused as, throwing back the lid, he revealed a quantity of documents and papers, neatly par- celled and docketed. And when he spoke again it was in accents of consternation. '' Gone!" he said. '' Certain securities—some East India bonds—other things! My God, Linthwaite! But I fear, I fear this may not be the worst. I must go to the bank, to the manager—he lives over it. Come with me!" Brixey put the box on its shelf again, and Lin., thwaite gave the old man his arm down the stairs and along the street. All three were very silent until the bank manager had been roused and had admitted them by his private door. By that time Semmerby was pale and shaking, and he looked to have aged ten years since the uncle and nephew had walked into his parlour an hour earlier. THE MIDNIGHT DISCOVERY 249 "Hollinshaw!" he said, grasping the manager by the lapels of his dressing-gown. "Tell me! Have you the Byfield box of securities and papers safe? Tell me? A word will do!" The manager started back and gazed from one anxious face to the other. "The Byfield box!" he exclaimed. ''Good heavens, Mr. Semmerby—you sent your clerk, Letwige, for it just before the bank closed this afternoon. He car- ried it away with him!" CHAPTER XIII THE ABSCONDER The old lawyer relinquished his hold on the bank manager's coat and stepped back. His hands fell nervelessly to his sides; his lips, quivering and pale, parted in a queer, almost ghastly grin. "What!" he exclaimed, in a tone that nearly approached a snarl. "My clerk, Letwige, fetched that box this afternoon ?'' "To be exact, yesterday afternoon," replied the manager, glancing at a clock which hung on the wall of the bank parlour. "It's past midnight, you see, Mr. Semmerby. At ten minutes to four yesterday afternoon." "By whose order?" demanded Semmerby. "You couldn't give up that box without authority!" The bank manager turned away in silence, and, unlocking a drawer in his desk, turned over some documents. "There you are, Mr. Semmerby," he said, hand- ing the old man a sheet of letter paper. "All cor- rect, I believe, so far as we're concerned." Semmerby's hands shook so much that he was obliged to lay the paper on the edge of the desk be- fore he could read it. Linthwaite and Brixey, with- out ceremony, bent over it on either side of him. 250 THE ABSCONDER 251 "Nothing could be plainer," remarked the bank manager. "That's Mrs. Byfield's private notepaper, and Mrs. Byfield's signature. I ought to know that, anyway!'' Brixey found himself regarding an octavo sheet of slightly tinted notepaper, whereon an address was embossed in thick black letters. All but the signature of what he saw on it was typewritten. The signature was in a somewhat conventional fem- inine style, of the old-fashioned Italian type of pen- manship so popular among Englishwomen in the Victorian era. "The Minories, Selohester, "May 19, 1919. "Will you please ask Mr. Hollinshaw to hand over to you the box of securities and deeds this afternoon, so as to have everything in readiness for me first thing to- morrow morning? "Yours truly, "Harriet Byfield." That's what your man brought, Mr. Semmerby," continued Hollinshaw. "Of course, as he brought it direct from you, I took it as sufficient authorization, and handed over the box." The old lawyer brought his fist heavily down on the letter. "I never saw this thing till now!'.' he exclaimed. '' Never! I believe it's a forgery!'' The bank manager started picked up the letter, and looked sharply at it. He put it down again with a decisive shake of his head. "No, sir!" he said quietly. "Not Mrs. Byfield's 252 THE LOST MR. LINTHWAITE signature, anyway. I've not been familiar with that for several years for nothing!" Linthwaite, who, as soon as Semmerby spoke of forgery, had nudged Brixey's elbow, picked up the letter. "A question or two," he said. "Does Mrs. By- field commonly use a typewriter ?'' "She's used one for two or three years, to my knowledge," said Hollinshaw. "This signature of hers is a fairly easy one to imitate," remarked Linthwaite. "A very clever for- ger" "I say that's no forgery!" exclaimed Hollinshaw. "I've seen Mrs. Byfield's signature on hundreds of cheques. I know it as well as I know my own!'' Linthwaite said no more. He turned and looked at Semmerby, who was groaning and muttering. "I suppose there was a good deal that was valu- able in the box?" he asked. "Valuable!" said Semmerby bitterly. "There's pretty nearly the whole of the Byfield estate in it. And the worst of it is, it's mostly in negotiable secu- rities! If that scoundrel, Letwige, has those, and what's missing from my office" Hollinshaw turned sharply from the drawer to which he was restoring the letter. "Ah, he's got something from your office, has he?" he exclaimed. "Then that explains what puzzled me! That letter came into his hands, and he made use of it without your knowledge. But what's he got?" "A quantity of East India bonds, for one thing," answered Semmerby. "And other matters just as THE ABSCONDER 253 easily negotiable. As I was saying, Letwige, with his knowledge of London, where he was a clerk in the City before coming to me, will be able to convert a lot of these securities into casts, easily, in an hour or two. "And some of the others he could do the same thing with, on sight, in Paris, or Vienna, or New York. They're most of them as good as an open cheque!" "Then," remarked Hollinshaw drily, "the best thing to do, Mr. Semmerby, is to lay Letwige by the heels! But I imagine he's off.'' Brixey, who had refrained from telling Linthwaite of the address in the green purse and was by this time determined on keeping it to himself, stepped into the arena. "I have very good reason for knowing that Letwige went away from Selchester in a motor-car, travelling west, in company with Nat Lee and his daughter, this evening," he said. "And I suggest that we now go and ask Mr. Crabbe to track him and his companions. They can possibly find out something about the car." "We'll have to do more than that," muttered Semmerby. "I must get up to London—at once! who knows Mrs. Byfield's address there?" "I do!" said Brixey. "She's at the Grosvenor Hotel." Hollinshaw picked up a railway guide. "Get a train from Ledfield function just after four o 'clock,'' he said. '' Land you at London Bridge ten minutes past six." "I shall take it!" exclaimed Semmerby. "I must see Mrs. Byfield at once." 254 THE LOST MR. LINTHWAITE "I'll go with you," said Linthwaite. "I, too, want to see Mrs. Byfield—and some other people, who, I rather suspect, will be somewhere near her." Semmerby walked, as if unwittingly, to the door of the parlour. There he turned and pointed a linger at the manager's desk. "I say, that letter is a forgery!" he remarked emphatically. "Clever enough, no doubt, since it's taken you in, but a forgery!" "No, sir!" said Hollinshaw, with equal emphasis. "As you will find from Mrs. Byfield herself." Outside the bank premises and once more in the midnight streets, Brixey took charge of things. "If we 're going up to town by the four-seven from Ledfield," he said, "you two must get some- rest. Leave all to me. I'll arrange about a taxicab for half-past three, and I 'l1 tell Crabbe about the flight of these people." "But not of the precise nature of the losses!" ex- claimed Semmerby eagerly. "Not a word of that, yet. I must see Mrs. Byfield first. It's possible." "What's possible?" asked Brixey. "Oh, I don't know," replied the old lawyer, fret- fully. "I was thinking—but, really, 11don't know what to think. If that signature really isn't forged, why, then, perhaps—but it's all so vague. Don't tell the police anything much about Letwige, except as regards Mr. Linthwaite." "Leave it to me," said Brixey. "You two go and get an hour or so in bed, and be ready at the Mitre at three-thirty sharp, Mr. Semmerby." "I shan't go home,'' retorted Semmerby. '' What's CHAPTER XXXII BLUE SPECTACLES It was half-past six, and a fine and cheery May- morning, when Brixey, having seen his two elderly companions safely off in a cab, bound first for Lin- thwaite's chambers in the Temple and thence to seek Mrs. Byfield and her party at their hotel, turned into a public telephone box at London Bridge Station and rang up New Scotland Yard. The time had come, he had decided in the train, for calling in expert police assistance. He now knew enough to warrant him in taking action when he got to Trinity Square, if the people were there whom he firmly believed would be there. The folk at New Scotland Yard knew him, Brixey, well enough—he had been mixed up with them more than once. As good luck would have it, the man who answered his telephone call was particularly well known to him, and was instantly eager to know what was afoot at that early hour of the morning. "Tell you that when you meet me," said Brixey. "Come yourself, with the next best man you can get, and meet me as quickly as possible outside Mark Lane Station—going there straight, just now. Bye- bye. A nice job for you—and for me." The voice at the other end of the wire said that its owner would be at the appointed rendezvous in 258 BLUE SPECTACLES 259 half an hour, and Brixey rang off, left the station, and strolled lazily across London Bridge, looking about him with keen enjoyment of the rousing life of road and river, and feeling that if one has been out of London even for a few days there is a vast amount of enjoyment to be had in getting back to it. He sauntered along, past the Monument, took a short cut into Great Tower Street, and was lounging outside Mark Lane Station when, at five minutes past seven, two men drove up in a taxicab, dismounted, and approached him. Quiet, soberly-attired, em- inently respectable persons these, who might have been taken for solid City men come very early to business, and Brixey looked them over with approving eyes. "Good!" he said. "I think I've a nice little job for you. The actual doing of it is more in your particular line than mine." "What's the game?" demanded the man whom Brixey had rung up. "Your last affair was murder! Same again?" "Not this time, so far," replied Brixey. "Not but what there may be danger in it. Come into this corner." He took the two detectives aside and rapidly put them in possession of the pertinent facts. Letwige had absconded with certain valuable negotiable secur- ities, and there was little doubt that he had made off in company of Lee and his daughter. In Debbie Lee's purse Brixey had seen a certain address. Therefore, he concluded, there was at any rate a sporting chance of finding the missing birds at that address. 260 THE LOST MR. LINTHWAITE "And now why do you think they'd make for this place, Mr. Brixey?" asked one of the men. "You've some idea in your mind?" Brixey pointed towards the dock district. "It's an easy job to slip away from here to the Con- tinent," he said. "Plenty of boats running to Ant- werp, Rotterdam, Hamburg, and so on. This would be a convenient spot for the woman and her father to lie snug in for a few hours while Letwige deals with the securities, or some of 'em, in the City.'' "Then the thing to do," said the first man, "is to. take a look at this private hotel. But these people know you by sight." "Nothing venture, nothing have!" replied Brixey. "The probability is that they won't be stirring yet. Letwige, I understand, is an old Londoner, and he'll know that there's no business to be done before ten o'clock. Come round the corner and let's take an observation of the exterior of this spot.'' From the corner of Byward Street the three men looked out on Trinity Square, and one of the detec- tives at once pointed to a house at the north side, where a faded, gilt-lettered sign proclaimed the pres- ence of Wolmark's Private Hotel, evidently a sort of second-rate establishment, judging from its dingy blinds and general appearance. A man was polishing the brass bell-pull at its front door; a girl was wash- ing the steps. "There's the cage!" said the first detective. "Now, then, how about finding if the birds are in it?" "There'll be a register," remarked the other man. "Aye, but it's a hundred to one if they've given 262 THE LOST MR. LINTHWAITE "I heard that Mesham had gone from Selehester to Brighton by the 9.41, yesterday," said Gaffkin. "I followed by the 12.13. I've friends at Brighton, liv- ing near the station. I went to their house at once, shaved whiskers and moustache off, and borrowed this rig. "Then I set out to look for my gentleman. I know Brighton pretty well, and I'd an idea I'd run across him before long. I looked in at one or two spots, and eventually found them at the Bodega. He'd another elderly man with him, very like him- self." "Cradock!" exclaimed Brixey. "No doubt," agreed Gaffkin. "They were in very close conversation. Now, I wanted to test my dis- guise, so I took a seat near by while I had a glass of sherry. I saw Mesham glance at me once or twice, and I knew he didn't know me from Adam. '' Well, I kept 'em in view, quietly. They went off to Booth's in East Street, to lunch, and when they'd got in there I got the help of a friend who's had a bit of experience in these matters, and between us we kept an eye on them all the afternoon. When they left Booth's they walked to the Margrave Hotel and went in, and there they stopped until evening. "Then they went to the station. Mesham booked for London Bridge. The other man stayed in Brigh- ton. We followed Mesham. I took good care he never saw me again after the Bodega meeting, though I knew very well he hadn't recognized me there. "When we got to London Bridge we followed him here, to Wolmark's Private Hotel. It was then half- BLUE SPECTACLES 265 A moment later Mesham, turning to neither right nor left, walked past, in company with a man in dark overcoat and top-hat, who wore large blue spectacles. CHAPTER XXXTtl THE SUGGESTED SECRET The two elderly solicitors, refreshed by some attention to the toilet at Linthwaite's chambers and by a cup of coffee hastily prepared by his bedmaker, who, having diligently read the Sentinal for the last few days, was unfeignedly surprised to see him alive and well, drove up to the Grosvenor Hotel at eight o'clock and, presenting themselves at the office, asked for Mrs. Byfield. And they were at once plunged into further mystery. "Mrs. Byfield is not here," replied the clerk. "She was here yesterday for a few hours, but she left again early in the afternoon. Mr. Fanshawe By- field is here, and Miss Byfield." "Better see Fanshawe at once," muttered Sem- merby. "Will you send up to Mr. Fanshawe Byfield's room?" he added, turning to the clerk. "Tell him—however, here's my card. "Now, what's the meaning of this?" he went on as he and Linthwaite turned away to wait. "What's this woman mean by rushing up to town with these two, leaving them here, and going off again? Where's she gone? And what's it all about?" "She'll have reasons, of course," replied 'Lin- thwaite. "I only hope she hasn't gone to meet those infernal Melsomes. There's no doubt that Charles 266 THE SUGGESTED SECRET 267 has been blackmailing her for the last two years, and if he and his precious brother get hold of her, why, I don't know what they mayn't persuade her to do! "You know what the poor woman's position is! Naturally, she doesn't want all Selchester—a little, provincial-minded place—to know her secret, and those two are capable of anything. I wish I'd never had dealings with them. They'll probably say to her: 'Make it worth our while, or out comes the whole truth!' "My opinion, Semmerby, is that your clerk's been in league with Charles Melsome, whom you know better as Mesham, and that Charles is now in the happy possession of these securities. Then, of course, he'll make Mrs. Byfield pay for silence, and the Byfield fortune will go where it was never meant to go." "Not if I know anything!" growled Semmerby. He glanced round and saw the man who had taken his card beckoning him to the lift. "Come along!" he continued. "We'd better be careful what we say to this lad, Linthwaite," he added, as they were carried upwards. "My own impression, from what your nephew told me, is that Fanshawe Byfield is in the dark as yet.'' "I shall leave the saying to you," replied Lin- thwaite. "I'm a stranger. He doesn't know me." Fanshawe, encountered in the act of brushing his hair, stared hard at the family solicitor's companion. "Hello, Mr. Semmerby!" he exclaimed. "What brings you here! Nothing wrong, I hope ?'' "This gentleman is Mr. Linthwaite, who was lost," 268 THE LOST MR. LINTHWAITE said Semmerby brusquely. "He's come to light again." Fanshawe laid down his brushes and grasped Lin- thwaite's hand. "Very glad to hear that, sir!" he exclaimed heartily. "There's been a nice old row about you. But what does it all mean?" "You'll hear plenty about it in time," growled Sem- merby. He carefully closed the door and sat down on the edge of Fanshawe's bed. "Where's your mother?" he demanded. "They say downstairs that she was here yesterday and went off again. Where's she gone?" Fanshawe, who was sprinkling bay rum over his fair hair, set the bottle down with a bang. "I don't know where my mother is!" he answered. "I've no more idea than you have, perhaps less. She and my cousin Georgina worked up some dodge or other on Sunday night. I wasn't to ask questions, and I haven't asked questions. "We all came here yesterday morning. My mother was out, somewhere, for an hour. Then she came back and had lunch. Then she went off again, saying she wouldn't be back till today, and we were to—well, just to stop here till she returned. "You know what my mother's like about business matters, Mr. Semmerby—she'll tell nobody anything until she wants to. So I didn't press her for any ex- planations. Georgie and I went to the theatre last night. We'd a good time, anyhow! And I guess my mother will turn up when she's done what she came up for." THE SUGGESTED SECRET 269 "You haven't any idea what she came up for?" asked Semmerby. "Not the remotest!" replied Panshawe, carefully arranging his cravat. "I tell you, I was told to ask no questions. Georgina told me." "Where's your cousin, then?" demanded Sem- merby. "In her room, I should think," said Fanshawe. "I arranged to meet her at breakfast at eight-thirty. You gentlemen had better join us." "You seem mightily unconcerned, young man!" remarked Semmerby. "I don't know of anything to be concerned about, now," retorted Fanshawe. "I was a good deal bothered about my mother up to Sunday night, but since Georgina took hold, I'm not. I reckon my mother's gone to do a bit of private business, and, as I say, she'll turn up." "Oh!" said Semmerby. "Very well. And talk- ing of business, you know that clerk of mine, Letwige ?'' "Do I know my own face?" laughed Fanshawe. "Who doesn't know him—in our town, anyway?" "Do you know if Letwige called to see your mother on business at all during the last few days?" asked Semmerby. Fanshawe picked up his waistcoat and carefully removed a speck of dust. "Letwige called to see me on business on Satur- day afternoon," he answered. "Cricket Club busi- ness." Semmerby glanced at Linthwaite before he asked 270 THE LOST MR. LINTHWAITE any more questions. His glance suggested that he was now expecting important information. "You didn't happen to let him use your mother's typewriter for a few minutes, did you?" he inquired. Fanshawe turned sharply on the old lawyer. "Yes, I did!" he answered. "Who told you I did?" "Never mind," said Semmerby. "Why did he use it?" "Nothing extraordinary," answered Fanshawe. '' He just asked if he could type a letter. He wanted to put it in the pillar-box close by, on his way to the cricket ground. I went out then. I left him typing." Semmerby looked once more at Linthwaite. '' There you are V' he said. '' I knew that signature was forged, in spite of Hollinshaw! I see how the thing's been worked. But—forgery!'' '' Forgery!'' exclaimed Fanshawe. He was into his coat by that time, and he thrust his hands into its pockets and turned on Semmerby with a queer, nervous movement. "Forgery?" "You'd far better tell him," remarked Linthwaite. "He'll have to know." "Sit down!" said Semmerby, nodding at Fan- shawe. "You wondered what we were doing here," he. continued. "We made a very serious discovery during the night—at midnight. "Yesterday afternoon, just before the bank closed, Letwige presented Hollinshaw with a letter, typed on your mother's note-paper and purporting to be signed by her, addressed to me, asking Hollinshaw to hand THE SUGGESTED SECRET 271 over the box containing the Byfield securities. Hol- linshaw believed the letter to be genuine, and gave Letwige the box. "Letwige has disappeared, and he not only has those securities from the bank—most of them easily negotiable—he also has some which he has stolen from my office. But, answer me a question, to settle one point. You say you went out and left Letwige at your typewriter! Had he any chance of seeing your mother after you left him?" "My mother was out," declared Fanshawe. "She was at Mrs. Morrifield's all Saturday afternoon! She never signed any such letter, that I'll swear! "What's being done?" he asked anxiously. "Police know?" "Crabbe's been put on the track," said Semmerby, who was all unaware that Brixey, for reasons of his own, had never been near Crabbe. "And Mr. Brixey is making some inquiry—I don't know what—here in town. Letwige left Selchester last night in company with Nat Lee and his daughter, by motor-car." Fanshawe whistled. "Whew!" he said. "Debbie Lee, eh! The devil! That explains something. Of late, I've often seen Letwige and Debbie Lee together in the Priory grounds. I say, come down and meet my cousin- she'l1 have to know this." Georgina, discovered in a quiet corner of the coffee- room, awaiting Fanshawe, became remarkably re- served after her first surprise on seeing Mr. Lin- thwaite. She heard Semmerby's news without comment, and THE SUGGESTED SECRET 273 Semmerby glanced at Georgina with unconcealed in- terest and curiosity. "So there's a secret—and you know all its de- tails, I suppose?" he said. "Everything—since Sunday night," answered Georgina, calmly. Then, remarking that she would see them again at ten o'clock, she left the two men to themselves and disappeared. And Semmerby and Linthwaite waited and wondered until, as they lounged about in the hall of the hotel, they saw Mrs. Byfield enter, accom- panied by an elderly clergyman. THE STROKE DIRECT 275 Matsey came hurrying along the street and turned into the passage in which the others stood. "They've gone into the office of the United Steam- ships Company, just along there," he said. "Both of 'em!" "Ah!" remarked one of the detectives. "Going to inquire about passages to—where?" "Listen to me!" continued Brixey. He button- holed the senior detective. '' You know enough now,'' he said, "to arrest these fellows. Take 'em in charge, and bundle 'em off to the nearest police station. That's close by, isn't it? All right, I know it. "Very well. Go and get 'em. Never mind what they say, or protest. In any case, you can make them accompany you to give an account of themselves. Gaffkin, you and Matsey go with them." "And what about you, Mr. Brixey?" asked the elder detective. "What are you going to do?" "Follow up a little idea of my own," answered Brixey. "And, on second thoughts, I'll keep Matsey. You can manage without him?" "We'll take these fellows to the station round there and make them account for their doings," replied the detective. "You'll come there and identify Letwige and tell what you know?" "IH come there before very long and identify Letwige and Mesham, and tell all I know!'' assented Brixey. "You go and make sure of them." He beckoned Matsey to follow him and walked back in the direction of Trinity Square. At the corner he paused. "Matsey!" he said. "You're a smart chap, I'm sure. I've got a bit of a notion that may turn out 278 THE LOST MR. LINTHWAITE chops and steaks—and she did not look up until Brixey had advanced to the table at which she sat. And before she looked up at all, he had noticed an- other thing. At her right hand, set where her cup and saucer should have been, was a small, stout leather despatch case with the initials "J. L." stamped on it in black. His heart gave a jump at that. What he wanted was, he felt sure, lying in that case, which Debbie was guarding while its owner took the air outside with Mesham and did a little necessary business. Brixey had his hand on a chair, and was actually drawing it up to her table before Debbie knew he was there. At the grating sound she looked up and recognized him, and his heart jumped again as she instinctively clapped a hand—whereon he noticed a brand-new wedding ring—on the despatch case. "That's right, Mrs. Letwige!" whispered Brixey. "Take care of it for a few minutes longer!" He knew from his slight acquaintance with her that this was a young woman of character and determina- tion, who would probably show fight. But his sudden appearance had been too much for her, and she sank back in her chair, pale enough, and already trembling. Brixey drew his chair close in, and leaned across the table. "Take it quietly!" he said, dropping his voice to a whisper. "Look out there—through the window at your left hand. You see two men waiting outside. One, as you see, is a policeman; the other is a defec- tive. And I don't want to have to call them in." The woman found her tongue. Brixey knew her 280 THE LOST MR. LINTHWAITE "He's off to the west of England, where he be- longs," she whispered. '' With plenty of money from Letwige in his pocket, no doubt," said Brixey. "Now, then, you are Mrs. Letwige, aren't you?" "We were married when I was at the milliner's place in the West End," she answered. "Only we kept it a secret. Nobody but father knows." "Well, I'm sorry for you," said Brixey, "but you've got to face stern facts, Mrs. Letwige! Your husband's just been arrested; so has Mesham!" "Oh," she broke out. "It was that damned Mes- ham put him up to it! It's all been Mesham! He planned it all about Mr. Linthwaite." "Keep cool!" whispered Brixey. "It's the only thing. I'm the only person that can help you. And I will, if you'll be sensible. Now, then, you've got all those stolen papers, and so on, in that case, haven't you! I thought so! And you don't want me to call in those two outside? Very well—hand the case over to me, and the key!" Five minutes later, Brixey, having hastily gone through the contents of the despatch case, put it securely under his arm and got up. "Now, do as I tell you," he said. "Keep quiet here. I'l1 come back and see you before noon. We'll fix it that you yourself didn't know what these two were after. And we 'l1 try to get the principal blame shoved on to Mesham. Now, I'm going to the police station where they've taken your husband." He went away without another word, silently drew the policeman aside and handed him a sovereign and CHAPTER XXXV THE UNWISHED-FOR PAST That Mrs. Byfield was either unusually excited or was strung up to a pitch whereat nothing could strike her as unusual was immediately evident to the two men of law. She showed no surprise at seeing either as they advanced to meet her, and her first words were ad- dressed, not to them, but to Georgina, who just then came along the hall to meet her. "Where is Fanshawe? she asked. "You got my telegram?" "Gone down to the Safe Deposit," answered Georg- ina. "He'll be back presently." Mrs. Byfield turned, then looked inquiringly -at Semmerby. "You're surprised to see us here!" he said. "No," she answered. "I'm surprised at nothing just now! And here or at SelChester, it doesn't matter. We were going back by the afternoon train to see you. This gentleman was coming with me." "Your son," said Semmerby, "has been asking what all this ij^about. I'm inclined to ask the same, Mrs. Byfield." Mrs. Byfield turned to Georgina and pointed to the office. "Ask them to show us into a private room, some- 282 284. THE LOST MR. LINTHWAITE ment. But Mrs. Byfield showed no surprise. In- stead, she nodded her head in acquiescence. "So do I know he's alive," she answered. "He was brought to see me last week—twice—by his brother Charles, who's been living at Selchester for two years—on me! You know him, Mr. Semmerby. But he calls himself Christopher Mesham in Sel- chester." The two solicitors exchanged glances. "You know the effect of this, Mrs. Byfield," said Semmerby, after a pause. "It means that you were never legally maried to Martin Byfield." But Mrs. Byfield shook her head. "It would mean that," she replied, "if I hadn't known something all these years, something that I never told to anybody but Martin Byfield. I've kept it quiet because I've a horror of raking things up, and I didn't want Fanshawe to know, and I hoped to end my days peaceably in Selchester without talk or gossip, which is impossible now, and because I'm easily got round, and lots of reasons." "But it's got to come out. The truth is, I never was married to Cradock Melsome! Legally, anyway.'' "Eh?" said Linthwaite. "You never were mar- ried to Cradock? But" Mrs. Byfield leaned over the table, tapping it with an outstretched finger. She looked from Linthwaite to Semmerby, from Semmerby to Linthwaite. "I went through a form of marriage with Cradock Melsome here in London," she answered. "And I believed it was all right. But it wasn't. Cradock Melsome, Mr. Linthwaite—you were Mr. John Herbert in those days—was already married! This 288 THE LOST MR. LINTHWAITE "About the brother, now?" asked Semmerby. "You say you saw him last week?" "When I met Mr. Linthwaite—whom I'd known as Mr. Herbert, when I was married, or believed my- self married, to Cradock—last Tuesday," answered Mrs. Byfield, "I made up my mind I'd tell him all about this. But Mesham, as we call him, came along. He and Mr. Linthwaite went off together. "And it was the night after that, when Fanshawe was out, that Mesham brought Cradock to the house, by the garden gate. They caught me alone—nobody knew they were there. And there they had me, trapped! What was more, they came again next night, in the same way. "Cradock swore that the marriage to the girl at Mingham Parva was not a proper one—he'd all sorts of explanations about it—and they were both so certain that I didn't know what to do, or think. They threatened me with exposure if I didn't" "If you didn't buy their silence!" interrupted Semmerby, sardonically. "Now we're getting at it. In short, Mrs. Byfield, you consented to be black- mailed, eh?" "What was I to do?" exclaimed Mrs. Byfield. "They both swore that I was legally married to Cradock! And I so dreaded what they could do that I promised to buy their silence. I daresay" "To what extent were you going?" demanded Semmerby. "I promised to give them a certain sum of money —today," admitted Mrs. Byfield. "Of course, it would have been my money—not Fanshawe's. But" THE UNWISHED-FOR PAST 289 "That's why Mesham looked so sold when he saw Mrs. Byfield leave for London yesterday morning!" exclaimed Semmerby, with a glance at Linthwaite "Well, they haven't got the money. But now, there's this Letwige's affair, Mrs. Byfield." But before he could say more the door opened, and a waiter showed in a quiet and demure-looking person who carried in his right hand, evidently with great care, a brown leather despatch case. CHAPTER XXXVI THE STOLEN MARCH Brixey was still cock-a-hoop when he and Matrey rounded the corner into Byward Street. Every- thing had gone well. His plan of campaign was being- carried out precisely as he had wished it to be. Nothing could have been more satisfactory, he thought; but in the midst of these triumphant reflec- tions he came to a sudden halt. One glance along the street showed him that some- thing either had gone wrong, or was in process of going wrong. According to his plans, Mesham and Letwige ought by that time to have been in the sure and safe custody of the police. He had already pictured them at the police station, bewildered, confounded, very angry, endeavouring, perhaps, to banter, trying, no doubt, to explain them- selves to unsympathetic and incredulous ears. But instead of that there they were, some thirty yards away along the pavement, talking in quite easy fashion to the two detectives and Gaffkin—they were even laughing. Brixey's sharp eyes saw that the detectives appeared to be puzzled, that Gaffkin was looking doubtful. Something unexpected was certainly in the air. And he was glad that all five men were so absorbed in 290 THE STOLEN MARCH 291 their conversation that they saw neither himself nor Matsey. To slip the despatch-case behind his back and to draw his companion round the corner again was to Brixey the work of a second. He glanced about him, saw a disengaged taxicab, and signalled to its driver, who caught the beckoning movement, started his engine, and came quickly to the edge of the kerb. "Matsey!" muttered Brixey. "You're a depen- dable chap, and I'm going to entrust the swag to you! Take this despatch-case straight to the Grosvenor Hotel. Ask for Mr. 'Semmerby and Mr. Linthwaite— give it into their hands, and to nobody else. "If they haven't arrived, wait for them! And tell them that I've sent you with this, that they're to keep a tight hold on it till I come, and that I'm following you at once. Now be off!" The taxicab sped away round the corner, westward, and when Brixey followed it at a leisurely pace, was already far past the group in which he was interested. Its members were strolling towards him, still talking, the detectives appearing puzzled, the two confederates nonchalant. As for Gaffkin, he walked alongside, apparently in moody thought. Thereupon Brixey drew out his cigarette-case and ostentatiously proceeded to smoke. That gave him the opportunity to pause in the middle of the side- walk, and to let the others approach more closely. The elder detective was the first to see him. He immediately quickened his pace. '' Here's Mr. Brixey himself!" he exclaimed. '' Mr. Brixey" "What the devil have we to do with any Mr. THE STOLEN MARCH 295 rushed, shouting and gesticulating. He had reached the steps, and was staring wildly about him, when Letwige, too, rushed out, only to seize his confederate by the arm in evident expostulation. He appeared to be entreating Mesham to keep cool, and in the midst of his entreaties he caught sight of the watching group, dropped Mesham's arm, and fled within the house again. Brixey turned to the detectives with a laugh. "They've found all the eggs stolen from the nest!" he said. "Now then, you fellows, go and take both of 'em! I'm off to the Grosvenor. Telephone me there when you've got 'em under lock and key, and we'll come down. "But, look here," he added, taking the elder de- tective aside, "leave the woman alone. I promised her! Stick to Letwige and Melsome." He hurried away then and found a taxicab and followed Matsey to the Grosvenor Hotel,, where he burst in on an astonished group, in the midst of which lay the despatch-case. Without a word, he drew a key from his pocket, and laying it before Mrs. Byfield, pushed the despatch-case towards her. "What's all this, young man?" demanded Sem- merby. Brixey got his breath, which he had lost in his hurry along the corridors. "Mrs. Byfield," he said, "one question. Have you ever given that man Letwige a power of attorney to deal with your affairs and property? Think!" Mrs. Byfield turned wonderingly on Semmerby, and looked from him to her questioner, still more wonderingly. 296 THE LOST MR. LINTHWAITE ''Power of attorney—to Letwige?" she exclaimed. Never!" "Then open that case, and you'll find all your securities there—safe!" said Brixey. "So far as I can judge," he added, turning to Semmerby, "every- thing's there! I rescued 'em by a trick. It came off. So, Mrs. Byfield, you're not a penny the worse, as it turns out." But Mrs. Byfield was staring helplessly at her so- licitor. "My securities?" she faltered. "What does he mean? Rescued? "What is it? What has hap- pened?" Brixey turned on Semmerby. "Do you mean to say she doesn't know?" he ex- claimed. Semmerby gave him a look. "She knows nothing yet!" he whispered. "She's been telling us a good deal. You're sure all's safe?" "Certain!" replied Brixey. '' And the men?" demanded Semmerby. "In the hands of the police," said Brixey. "They'll be telephoning presently. We shall have to go down there—at least you and my uncle will." He turned away from the old solicitor and touched Georgina on the shoulder, at the same time motion- ing her towards the door. "Come out here!" he murmured. "I want to speak to you." Outside in the corridor Brixey led Georgina away to a retired and quiet corner which he had noticed as he came along. "Tell me at once," he said as he signed to her to sit down behind a convenient screen, "what did THE STOLEN MARCH 297 Semmerby mean just now when he said that Mrs. Byfield had been telling a good deal? What has she told? "Listen, I want to know particularly—is that the- ory of Gaffkin's, which we put before you on Sunday, right? Be plain. Does that Byfield property really belong to you?" THE UNEXPECTED WINDFALL 299 "Then it has not come out!" answered Georgina, with even more decision. "What has come out, un- doubtedly, is that she was never legally married to that man Cradock Melsome. Therefore, she was le- gally married to my uncle Martin." "Fact?" asked Brixey. '' That's what she brought that old clergyman here for," replied Georgina. "Then the Byfield money, most of which I've just rescued from a couple of impudent thieves, is really hers and Fanshawe's!" demanded Brixey. "I don't think I'm wrong in saying—precisely so!" answered Georgina. Brixey heaved a deep sigh—unmistakably a sigh of immense relief. '' Hooray!" he said. '' Delighted to hear it! Best news I've heard for a week!" Georgina turned a little in her seat and looked steadily at him. "Why?" she exclaimed. "What on earth have you got to do with it? Or, rather, what on earth has it got to do with you? Aren't you a bit queer, Mr. Brixey?" "I am a queer sort!" assented Brixey. "Odd, perhaps—I always was. But, the fact is, I—I wanted to speak to you." "You are," remarked Georgina. "To you—you!" continued Brixey, emphasising the personal pronoun. "That's why I asked what I did just now. You see I—the fact is, I have strong views on things in general." "Yes?" said Georgina. '' On most things,'' asserted Brixey. '' I—you must 300 THE LOST MR. LINTHWAITE understand that I am by no means conventional. I neither do nor say things that other people say or do, usually!" "For instance T" suggested Georgina. "Yes, quite right," said Brixey. "I—you see, I have very queer ideas about—marriage!'' Georgina turned the full inquiry of her eyes on him. "Oh!" she said. "Have you?" "Yes!" declared Brixey. "Always had—at least, I mean, always since I arrived at years of discretion, you know." "I hope," observed Georgina, looking thoughtfully at a corner of the convenient alcove, "I hope they aren't very queer!" "Well, perhaps not particularly so," said Brixey. "But they're mine! You see, I always felt that I could never marry a girl, you know, who had a lot of money—couldn't do it!" "No?" remarked Georgina, demurely. "You are, indeed, different to most young men, Mr. Brixey." "Well, it's a fact!" assented Brixey. "You mightn't think it, but I've often considered that matter. I once knew a chap who married a girl who had a pot of money. He'd next to nothing. "And—human nature is very weak, you know- she didn't forget to remind him that she carried the purse. Sad!'' "People differ," observed Georgina. "I don't think that, for instance, I—that is, if one's to talk about oneself—that I, you know, if I were very rich, and married somebody that wasn't—well, that I should ever behave like that! It would be mean!" "Ah!" said Brixey. "You don't know. Human THE UNEXPECTED WINDFALL 301 nature—we're poor things. Now, can you think of anything more awful than the spectacle of a wife with, say, a hundred thousand pounds, and a husband with five pounds a week? Dreadful!" "It depends how you look at it," remarked Georgina. "Some men who haven't five shillings a week would be very thankful to get a wife who possessed a hundred thousand pounds!" "Not men!" exclaimed Brixey. "Don't call 'em men! They aren't men, that sort! Call 'em para- sites, leeches—anything but men. A man," he con- tinued, "should be the rock on which the family's built! Those are my ideas." "Yes?" replied Georgina, somewhat timidly. "It's not a week since we met—first," observed Brixey. '' Isn't that queer ?'' "Is it?" asked Georgina. "Seems so," asserted Brixey. "More like—like a long time, somehow. You came into my room at the Sentinel, didn't you?" "Can't you remember?" inquired Georgina. '' Eemember everything!'' protested Brixey. '' Then we travelled down to Selchester together. I say, look here!" "Well?" said Georgina. "Now that this confounded business is wound up," said Brixey, "I've the best part of a longish holiday before me. What do you say if I finish it up at Sel- chester? I can, you know!'' "Would you really like to?" asked Georgina, still more timidly. "Rather!" exclaimed Brixey. He looked out of his eye-corners at his companion and ventured to 302 THE LOST MR. LINTHWAITE take her hand. "So that you and I could see a bit more of each other, eh?" Georgina looked hard at the corner of the alcove, but she made no attempt to withdraw the hand which Brixey had possessed himself of. And Brixey pro- ceeded to press it gently. "In time, you see," he murmured, ingratiatingly, "you might come to—to think of me a bit. You see, I" Georgina suddenly withdrew the hand and started aside. "There's Fanshawe!" she whispered. Brixey looked out into the corridor and saw Fan- shawe Byfield hurrying along, piloted by a waiter towards the room in which the conclave still sat. He was evidently in great haste, and he carried a packet of papers in his hand, and was altogether so engrossed that he looked neither to right nor left. And as he disappeared Brixey repossessed himself of Georgina's fingers. "What do you say?" he whispered. "Am I to come back to Selchester? Come now, say the word!" Georgina hesitated and blushed, and Brixey drew her hand nearer. "Do you really want to?" she said at last. "Ever since I first met you!" asserted Brixey. "Sure case!" Georgina looked down. "To be sure," she remarked, "I have no money. That's just what you want, isn't it?" "I've plenty!" declared Brixey. "Hang money! But, as it happens, I'm pretty well off in that way, quite apart from my profession. Say I'm to come!" THE UNEXPECTED WINDFALL 303 Georgina waited a full moment. "I'm awfully in love with you!" whispered Brixey. '' By George, it's a fact! Don't you believe it?" "Ye-es!" admitted Georgina. "I do, if you say so. But" "But what?" demanded Brixey eagerly. "But wouldn't you have—have—loved me if I'd been rich?" asked Georgina. "I—I want to know that!" Brixey drew his lips together in an effort to think. "Come!" said Georgina. "By Gad, I should!" admitted Brixey. "Bather! But" "Well?" persisted Georgina. "I don't think I'd have told you," said Brixey. "I'd have gone away." "Then you would have treated me very, very badly and very, very unkindly!" exclaimed Georgina. "Because, you see, I might have" "Might have what?" urged Brixey. "What, now?" "Well," said Georgina, demurely, "I might have been in love with you, you know. And if you'd gone away, then—well, then I couldn't have told you!" Brixey looked round, and encircled Georgina's waist. "I say," he murmured. "No more skirting round the subject! Look here. Are you going to marry me? And soon?" Georgina took half a minute to consider, during which Brixey exercised a material pressure on her. "I wouldn't mind if you're quite certain," she admitted at last. "Though, really, it's all so—" 304 THE LOST MR. LINTHWAITE At that moment there came the sound of a violently opened door, of hurrying feet, and of Fanshawe's voice, loudly demanding his cousin and Brixey. Those two drew apart and appeared in the corridor, to find Fanshawe gazing in all directions. "Here, you two!" he called, as he caught sight of them. "Where on earth were you? Come here! I've some news for you. Georgie! By Jove! you never heard such news! Come on!" He forced them into the room which they had recently quitted, and into the presence of those they had left there, who all gazed at Georgina in a way which betokened something. Georgina's blushes deepened. "What is it, Fanshawe!" she asked. "What's happened?" Fanshawe was swelling with importance. He as- sumed a sort of heavy-father attitude at the head of the table, from which he picked up a thick packet, the seals of which had recently been broken. "Georgie!" he said solemnly, "you know that you sent me down to that safe deposit place this morning, acting on instructions from the mater? It turns out that my father, some time before his death, placed this packet in a safe which he rented at that place, and left instructions to my mother that I was to fetch it in person on my twenty-first birthday. "I have carried out those instructions," continued Fanshawe, increasing in youthful solemnity. "Here is the packet! It is endorsed, Georgie, in my father's handwriting. He says this—'I wish my son Fan- shawe to make a present of what is here enclosed to THE UNEXPECTED WINDFALL 305 his cousin Georgina on the day on which he comes of age.' See? '' So now, Georgie, your cousin Fanshawe, in accord- ance with his father's wish hands this over to you, and—in short, my dear girl, here you are, and jolly glad I am, you know, and—the fact is, it's a little matter of ten thousand pounds!" Therewith Fanshawe pushed a hulky packet into the hands of the astonished Georgina, who, becoming pale and red by turns, stared from Fanshawe to the smiling and nodding faces of the others and shot a queer glance at Brixey. "Oh!" she exclaimed, and Brixey knew that the exclamation was meant for none but himself, "I— must I take it?" Brixey shot in a rapid order which penetrated to Georgina's consciousness long before the chorus of congratulatory protestations struck it. "You may!" he whispered. "Yes, certainly— now!" THE END "The Books You Like to Read at the Price You Like to Pay" There Are Two Sides to Everything— —including the wrapper which covers every Grosset & Duniap book. Whea you feel in the mood for a good ro- mance, refer to the carefully selected list of modern fiction comprising most of the successes by prominent writers of the day which is printed on the back of every Grosset & Duniap book wrapper. You will find more than five hundred titles to choose from—books for every mood and every taste and every pocket- book. Don't forget the other side, but in case the wrapper is lost, write to the publishers far a complete catalog. There is a Grosset Gf Duniap Book for every mood and for every facte THE NOVELS OF SINCLAIR LEWIS May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap's List. Within the space of a few yam Sinclair Lewis has become one of the most Distinguished of American Novelists. ELMER GANTRY Elmer Gantry, hypocrite and voluptuary, is painted against a background of church members and professing Christians scarcely less hypocritical than he. In this book Sinclair Lewis adds a vio- lent stroke to his growing picture of materialistic America. MANTRAP A clever satire on the adventures of a New York lawyer seek- ing rest and diversion in the northwoods. Instead of rest he finds trouble in the person of his host's wife—young, pretty and flir- tatious. ARROWSMITH The story of a country doctor whose search for truth led him to the heights of the medical profession, to the heights and depths of love and marriage and to final peace as a quietly heroic laboratory worker in the backwoods of Vermont. BABBITT Every man will recognize in the character of George Babbitt, something of himself. He was a booster and a joiner, but behind all of his activities was a wistful wonder as to what life holds. MAIN STREET Carol Kennicott's attempt to bring life and culture to Gopher Prairie and Gopher Prairie's reaction toward her teachings hava made this book one of the most famous of the last decade. GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, NEW YORK ' STIRRING TALES OF THE GREAT WAR books an told. Ask for Grosset 4- Dvslap's list ALL QUIET ON THE WESTERN FRONT..Erich Maria Remarque The greatest of all the War novels. The G. & D. Edition is the unexpur- gated edition—printed from the English text. GOD HAVE MERCY ON US! WBliam T. Scanlon These were the words that instinctively came to the lips of hundreds of American soldiers who survived the experiences told in this book, ALL ELSE IS FOLLY Peregrine Acland The story of a normal man in war—neither a coward nor a hero—and of what he learned of love and war. THE CASE OF SERGEANT GRISCHA Arnold Zwieg Based on an actual case during the European War—It is an impassioned and powerful drama of man's inhumanity to man. THE TOP KICK Leonard Nason Infantry, cavalry, artillery, intelligence—Private fights and public fights—Wine, no women, and cuss words—France in 1918. SQUAD James B. Wharton The war chronicle of eight men out of whose flesh and blood the small- est of military units—a squad—is made. WAR BIRDS .The Diary of an Unknown Aviator Soaring, looping, zooming, spitting hails of leaden death, planes every- where in a war darkened sky, WAR BIRDS is a tale of youth, loving, fighting, dying. SERGEANT EADIE Leonard Nason This is the private history of the hard luck sergeant whose exploits in CHEVRONS made that story one of the most dramatic and thrilling of war books. WINGS John Monk Saunders Based on the great Paramount picture, WINGS is the Big Parade of the air, the gallant, fascinating story of an American air pilot. RETREAT C. R. Benstead The story of a young English priest in the war who discovered the fact of his own utter uselessness and the futility of his divine mission. CHEVRONS Leonard Nason One of the sensations of the post-war period, CHEVRONS discloses the whole pageantry of war with grim truth flavored with the breesy vul- garis of soldier dialogue. THREE LIGHTS FROM A MATCH Leonard Nason Three long short stories, each told with a racy vividness, the real terror In war with the sputter of machine guns. GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, NEW YORK THE NOVELS OF GRACE LIVINGSTON HILL May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for >reseat and D—leu's List. FOUND TREASURE BLUE RUIN THE PRODIGAL GIRL DUSKIN CRIMSON ROSES OUT OF THE STORM THE HONOR GIRL JOB'S NIECE COMING THROUGH THE RYE A NEW NAME ARIEL CUSTER THE BEST MAN THE CITY OF FIRE CLOUDY JEWEL DAWN OF THL MORNING THE ENCHANTED BARN EXIT BETTY THE FINDING OF JASPER HOLT THE GIRL FROM MONTANA LO, MICHAEL THE MAN OF THE DESERT MARCIA SCHUYLER MIRANDA THE MYSTERY OF MARY PHOEBE DEANE THE RED SIGNAL THE SEARCH TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME THE TRYST THE WITNESS NOT UNDER THE LAW RE-CREATIONS THE VOICE IN THE WILDERNESS GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, NEW YORK I